


Dum Spiro Spero

by caleyedoscope



Series: Perspectives [2]
Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ, Super Junior, f(x)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleyedoscope/pseuds/caleyedoscope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know you. I know that you love women, that you love their softness and their beauty, and that you might even love her, even though the law will kill you for it. So be honest with yourself. What options do you have? What can you possibly do except run? Changmin, you have to disappear.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dum Spiro Spero

**Author's Note:**

> written 12/22/2011

  
02\. dum spiro spero  
 _while i breath, i hope_  
  
-  
  
 _He whispers in her ear that tonight is not about him. Tonight is about her, about how she feels, about what she is: a woman. He whispers against her skin and pulls on the lobes of her ears with his mouth as his fingers play against her, touch her, please her, until all she can think or stutter or feel is_ woman, woman, woman, woman. His woman.  
  
For as long as they can manage to stay alive.  
  
-  
  
Junsu has never been one to start suddenly from sleep, but the creaking of floor boards and sound of hushed voices combined with a realization that his partner is missing from underneath the comforter, causes him to be suddenly alert.  
  
He slides from the bed, feet finding his slippers on the floor, hands pulling on his sweatshirt. He shivers a bit as a breeze from the window brushes past his bare legs.  
  
He follows the sounds, a hand against the wall guiding him down the dark hallway, until he stumbles into the kitchen, blinking at the harsh light. The sight of two unfamiliar people makes him frown, and then when he sees Heechul draping himself all over Jaejoong, Junsu knows.  
  
He’s barely able to contain the bile that rises up in his throat.  
  
“Junsu,” Heechul croons, when he catches sight of him, “Did we wake you up? I’m sorry.”  
  
“What’s going on?” Junsu asks.  
  
“Jaejoong says you’ll take care of some people for me.” Heechul grins.  
  
 _Take care_ , Junsu thinks, bristling. Yeah, he’ll take care of them alright. He’ll take care to escort them back to wherever they’ve come from. It’s blatantly obvious that they are not in any way homosexual.  
  
It makes him sick.  
  
“Junsu,” Jaejoong says, from where he’s making tea, “Go back to bed. I’ll be there soon.”  
  
He grinds his teeth, very pointedly not looking at the two strangers as he huffs, whirling on his heel and heading back the way he had come. He can make out Jaejoong saying quietly, “He won’t say anything, don’t—“ before Junsu’s out of ear shot, slamming the door to the bedroom.  
  
Jaejoong had promised that he’d never do this again.  
  
Junsu doesn’t know who to be more angry at: himself for believing that Jaejoong could say no, or Jaejoong for lying through his teeth.  
  
He bolts the door in a fit of fury, the click of it very satisfying. Jaejoong will unlock it from the outside, but Junsu will at least make it clear that he’s furious.  
  
—  
  
“Yunho and Siwon are after them,” Jaejoong says the next morning, steam from his coffee curling out of the cup and around his glasses.  
  
“Then they shouldn’t be here,” Junsu says, turning a page of the newspaper calmly, “You know Yunho’s coming to the bar tonight.”  
  
“You know perfectly well that’s why they’re safe here.”  
  
“You promised.” The newspaper crinkles where Junsu grips it.  
  
A hand slides over his shoulder and squeezes. “You know me,” Jaejoong murmurs, “I’m sorry. But I can’t say no. Not to Heechul.”  
  
Junsu learns that the man’s name is Changmin, when he makes his way into the kitchen, the girl clinging to shirt sleeve, eyes wide and terrified, jumping at every little sound, even the bacon sizzling in a pan. “Eat,” Jaejoong urges them, laying out plates of food.  
  
Junsu gets up.  
  
“Thank you,” Changmin blurts, “I know you don’t—I can see that you’re not—“ he swallows, “Thank you.”  
  
Honestly, it sucks, because Junsu can’t say no either. And Jaejoong knows it.  
  
He walks out, hands stuffed in his pockets, heading straight for his office and locking himself in it, forcing himself to not think about all the memories surfacing in his mind. Half way through checking that night’s set, he hears a key in the lock and wonders what Jaejoong’s going to say this time.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“I know you’re angry.”  
  
“Because you promised me.”  
  
“That’s a lie,” Jaejoong accuses, “You’re not angry about that.” Junsu’s hands are pushed away from his keyboard and his chair spun, “Can you just. Be honest, Junsu. Please. I know you hate this because of Yoochun. But I have to do this because of Yoochun. Please let me. Please just.  _Junsu_.”  
  
“You don’t need my permission.”  
  
His cheek is cupped, hand soft on his skin, “Yes, I do.”  
  
“You should get ready for tonight,” Junsu says, eyes closed, “You need to impress lots of important people and all that.”  
  
He hears Jaejoong sigh, feels the kiss pressed into his hair. “I love you,” Jaejoong murmurs, “I need my partner in this. I need your support. I need your understanding—and your photoshop skills,” he adds on, pinching Junsu’s side.  
  
“I see what I am to you,” Junsu snorts, but lets Jaejoong sit on the arm rest, Junsu’s forehead against Jaejoong’s chest and breathes in the scent of shampoo and coffee lingering in the folds of his sweater. “Please not every night,” he whispers, “My heart cannot take seeing heterosexuals eon our doorstep very single night.”  
  
“Only when Heechul asks,” Jaejoong promises. “Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Junsu nods. “You’d better not go back on that.”  
  
“You’d better stop thinking about Yoochun and Boa. How’s the song coming? Fix the bridge yet?”  
  
Junsu shows him, pushing his scars back down into his soul and forgetting about them, at least temporarily.  
  
—  
  
“Who’s after us?” Changmin asks, as Junsu takes a break from serving drinks at the bar and goes back to check on their guests.  
  
“Jung Yunho and Choi Siwon.”  
  
“Are those names supposed to mean something to me?”  
  
“I don’t know if it’s good that you don’t know them or bad. They’re just—people you never want chasing you. Ever.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because their captured-to-not-captured ratio is not at all in your favor.”  
  
The few people that escape Yunho and Siwon have been people that Jaejoong has helped, and that’s only because Jaejoong knows Yunho like the back of his hand and can predict exactly what he’s going to do and how he’s going to do it and can therefore tell the heterosexuals how to avoid getting captured.  
  
“So, they’re good?”  
  
“The best,” Junsu nods. “But don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here, just not until they leave.”  
  
“They’re coming here?”  
  
“They  _are_  here. It’s Yunho’s birthday,” Junsu says, “And he always comes here with Siwon and their friends to celebrate.” He doesn’t elaborate and Changmin doesn’t ask further. Junsu doesn’t really want to think to hard about it, beyond the fact that while they don’t exactly agree on everything, Yunho’s a good person, and so is Siwon. He thinks that’s what makes them so good at what they do; everyone thinks they can trust them when really, no one can.  
  
Junsu walks down to the bar attached to the house, not really caring as Changmin follows him cautiously and the two of them hide in a room out back, peeking through a small window, watching Jaejoong serve the customers with a bright smile on his face and sashay of his hips.  
  
He pays special attention to Yunho, always making sure his glass is full, singing to him, accepting hugs from both officers. Jaejoong eventually brings out a cake, looking pleased with himself as Siwon grins, dipping a finger into the cream and offering it to his partner, Yunho sucking it off happily and then accepting the kiss that follows. Siwon’s arm goes around his neck, staying there comfortably as Jaejoong cuts the cake, dishing it out to everyone, even random strangers in the bar, before they accept a piece of their own to share.  
  
“They look so harmless,” Changmin says from behind him.  
  
“To everyone in that bar, they are,” Junsu agrees, “You should leave; you never know who might accidentally come back here. A lot of our customers are comfortable enough to do that.”  
  
“Qian’s sleeping.”  
  
“Then sleep with her. Don’t put our business in jeopardy just because you’re curious. I cannot stress enough how dangerous those two men are. Go back.”  
  
Changmin looks properly chastised when Junsu turns to glare at him, and the fugitive bows. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”  
  
He leaves, Junsu rolling his eyes after him, before heading out into the bar himself, offering Yunho a smile when he catches sight of Junsu coming over to the table.  
  
“Junsu,” Yunho slurs, in a way that supposed to sound drunk.  
  
 _This is why you’re dangerous_ , Junsu thinks, accepting a hug from the man he knows is perfectly sober. Even on his day off, on his  _birthday_ , Yunho is trying to trick any heterosexuals into thinking that he’s drunk so that maybe they’ll lower their guard, maybe they’ll think he won’t notice, and he can catch them doing something unawares.  
  
Junsu swipes his own finger through the frosting, licking it off with a grin. “Isn’t Jaejoong’s cooking magnificent?”  
  
“Only reason I come here,” Yunho says. He pats Junsu’s head, stumbling a bit, before going back to Siwon, smile widening as his arm goes back around Yunho’s shoulders.  
  
“Ha,” Junsu laughs.  
  
“Well, also your singing,” Yunho adds, a bit of a hopeful glint in his face.  
  
“Soon,” Junsu promises, unable to stop himself from preening as Jaejoong’s arms come around his middle.  
  
—  
  
They leave without arresting anyone, and Junsu’s grateful. The last time it had happened, their patronage had declined for months and it isn’t something Junsu wants to dig himself out of again. He has enough trouble keeping track of their books as it is.  
  
Changmin and Qian are up when Junsu comes to fetch them, beckoning with his hand and ushering them down the hallway to Jaejoong’s study. He’s waiting for them with a smile, scissors and shampoo all laid out in front of him.  
  
“What’s this?” Changmin asks.  
  
“We’re going to give Qian a hair cut. And then dress her as a boy. Junsu is going to make you new IDs with pictures we’ll take afterwards.”  
  
“I’m going to be a boy?” Qian asks, frowning.  
  
“Well not a real boy,” Jaejoong laughs, “Obviously, but we can make you look like one.”  
  
“You don’t really have a choice,” Junsu says, “Not with Yunho and Siwon after you. You need every leg up you can get.”  
  
He looks on as Qian glances at Changmin then at Jaejoong and then back to Changmin, obviously weighing the options in her mind, her fingers running smoothly against her long hair, petting it in a sort of forlorn goodbye. “Okay.”  
  
“Hold her hand,” Jaejoong directs Changmin.  
  
Junsu watches silently as Changmin threads his fingers in between Qian’s, smiling up at her encouragingly. The way they look at each makes Junsu’s stomach curl as he remembers  _Yoochun_  and they way he had looked at Boa.  
  
Jaejoong’s first chop with the scissors cuts off a foot of hair, and he doesn’t let Qian look at it, placing it off to the side, no doubt to send somewhere to be made into a wig. “Okay, done,” he teases, and Qian manages a hollow sounding laugh, though the way her hands contrast white and red where she’s gripping Changmin, it’s clear she doesn’t find it funny.  
  
“Just do it,” Junsu says, and swallows as his partner’s gaze sweeps over him, before Jaejoong starts to pin up parts of her hair and trim. He angles his scissors and comb expertly, and for awhile, the quiet snip of metal is the only sound in the room.  
  
“You’d look good with brown hair. Like dark chestnut. Should we try it?”  
  
She nods, because at this point, Junsu knows, what’s the harm? And it’s not as if anyone can say no to Jaejoong.  
  
Junsu certainly can’t.  
  
Jaejoong brings out a box of dye Junsu doesn’t even know they owned (though he isn’t surprised) and the process is a bit more involved but their endeavors are successful.  
  
Jaejoong washes Qian’s new hair with care, drying it meticulously and finally giving her a mirror. Junsu finds himself holding in a breath, only letting go when the corner of her mouth twitched up for a second. “It’s different,” she breathes.  
  
A new haircut to go along with their new names. Names Junsu now has to fabricate for them.  
  
“You’re very sexy,” Jaejoong tells her, patting the top of her head, “You’ll get used to it.”  
  
Junsu glances at Changmin, who’s staring a bit obviously, and it’s clear he likes it.  
  
“I don’t think I look like a boy,” Qian comments.  
  
“You’re still very obviously female,” Jaejoong says, giving a very pointed gaze to her breasts. She blushes. “We can make you look like a boy, don’t worry about that.”  
  
Jaejoong’s ideas are crazy sometimes, but this one seems to always work. Junsu stands up, straightening his shirt. “I’ll go get the camera,” he says. It’s time for him to do his part. When he comes back, Jaejoong has Changmin up agains the wall, the lights up high. Junsu takes their pictures quickly, having them change clothes and wear wigs for a set of passports. “I’ll be back with some IDs later,” he tells them.  
  
He can feel Jaejoong’s gaze on his back as he exits quickly, ducking into his workroom. Crop the photographs, drop into an scanned ID, make up two names, print, laminate, done; Junsu’s done it so many times the process is extremely quick. He prints out birth certificates, passports, and two resumes he’s just finished typing up. He’d hire them, that’s for sure.  
  
He’d heard Jaejoong leading them down the hallway to a room, and now he heads that way himself. He doesn’t consider himself a voyeur, not even a little bit, but he’s curious—curious about the two heterosexuals in his home and he wants to observe, especially after the way he’d seen Changmin look at Qian. He’s seen that before, once, and it ended badly for him. So he’s curious. He’s curious as to what’s so great about it.  
  
The door is open a crack, and Junsu’s nose brushes against the stained wood as he peeks through.  
  
Changmin’s holding her solidly as she cries, heaving sobs wracking her body as Changmin cradles her body in one arm and the back of her head with his hand. Junsu can’t hear what he’s saying, but it must help, because she soon calms down, her tears turning into hiccups turning into even breathing, and if he could not see her eyes Junsu would have thought she had fallen asleep.  
  
“You,” Junsu finally hears him say, “Are beautiful. Do you hear me Song Qian? Even if you cut your hair, even if we have to wrap your breasts, even if I’ll never see you in a pretty dress or a swimsuit that’s more of a string of cloth than anything else. Okay? You’re a woman. No matter what you look like, and especially if  _that’s what you want to be_. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”  
  
“I  _hate_  this,” Qian says, with such vehemence Junsu is taken aback.  
  
“We’ll get through it,” Changmin says, and it’s a clear promise, “We’ll get out safely and you can grow your hair out and wear a bra and everything you’ve ever wanted to do.”  
  
“Kiss you in the middle of the street.”  
  
“Anywhere,” Changmin tells her, “Anywhere you want. In front of whomever you want. I promise.”  
  
Junsu starts to feel a little nauseous, remembering similar promises he’d heard, and how the people who had spoken them ended up. So he knocks, quietly at first, and then a bit louder, waiting until they’ve untangled themselves before walking inside.  
  
He smiles, hoping it doesn’t look too fake. “Here. Your new IDs.” Lives that used to belong to other people but now are theirs until they make it to safety. Max. Victoria. Cousins.  
  
Changmin smiles, taking them. “Thank you.”  
  
Junsu shrugs. “There’s extra blankets in the hallway closet if you need them. Don’t go anywhere except the bathroom until we come get you in the morning, just to be safe.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Sleep well,” he says, and he’s echoed by both of them.  
  
Junsu’s almost out the door, when he turns around, “Oh. And make sure you shut your door. There’s no need to give anyone a show.” He smiles, trying to laugh as they both blush, and closes the door firmly for them. A deep breath proves to be infinitely calming, and rests his forehead against the wood frame. He’s not sure how long he stands there, his hands still shaking, but when the quiet murmur of voices turns into soft moans, he shoves himself off the wall and walks upstairs. He wipes his face on his sleeve even though he’s sure Jaejoong will be able to tell that he’s been crying, and goes to find him.  
  
Jaejoong’s sitting up in bed, reading, glasses threatening to slide off the edge of his nose. Junsu doesn’t say anything when he walks in, stripping and putting on sweats and a T-shirt before slipping underneath the covers and tucking himself up against Jaejoong’s body. Junsu hears Jaejoong turn a page in his book. He’s not reading, Junsu’s sure of it, but Junsu remains quiet, just wanting to feel Jaejoong for a bit, to snuggle up against the warmth of his body without having to explain how he feels.  
  
When his breathing starts to get a little ragged, he hears Jaejoong put the book down, the folding of his glasses audible even with the fan whirring softly from the floor. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Just. Memories.”  
  
“Of Yoochun,” Jaejoong’s chest rumbles with the sound of his voice.  
  
“Yes,” Junsu confirms, and feels his first tear slip from the corner of his eye.  
  
“I miss him too,” Jaejoong whispers, “And I’m sure he and Boa are safe.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“I have hope that they are alive and well somewhere. Junsu, I’m  _choosing_  to believe that. And I will continue to believe it until it’s been proven otherwise.”  
  
—  
  
Junsu rides the train with them to the next stop. Jaejoong had talked him into it, though it hadn’t taken much convincing; Junsu is very bad at telling Jaejoong no, especially when Jaejoong asks him with a hand around his cock and Junsu’s seconds from spilling out onto the sheets.  
  
He’s glad Changmin doesn’t ask him why he’s doing this.  
  
They huddle in a compartment in the last car, faces hidden with scarves and hats, Qian half buried in Changmin’s arms, finally looking like the boy Jaejoong had dressed her as, though Junsu suspects that’s because he can’t see her face.  
  
He looks up, intent on saying this to Changmin, but the words die on his lips as Changmin hisses to him, “ _Yunho_.”  
  
Junsu’s blood nearly freezes in terror as he whips his head around to stare out at the platform to where Yunho is outside the train, paying the conductor for a ticket and boarding the car. He takes a seat in the compartment across from them, and Junsu is so incredibly thankful that there are walls separating them, however thin they may be.  
  
He mouths to Changmin, “Stay quiet,” and the fugitive nods, eyes fearful. If they got up and left, it would be over so fast they wouldn’t know what hit them. Better to stay still, stay silent, and hope Yunho can’t hear the pounding of their hearts.  
  
 _Jaejoong should have come_ , Junsu despairs. Jaejoong is so much better at dealing with things like this.  
  
Junsu fights back a groan, burrowing his face further into his clothes and turning his head, staring out the window and settling down for a long ride.  _You owe me so big_ , Junsu thinks in Jaejoong’s general direction, and scowls, because he knows if Jaejoong were there to hear it, he’d probably be laughing.  
  
—  
  
 _The farmhouse is chilly, each step Qian takes making the floorboard groan in protest and she desperately hopes they don’t give way beneath her. She latches onto Changmin’s arm as they find a bed room and they make sure the box springs will not give out before sitting down, Changmin sliding an arm around her easily (finally!) and their breathing evens out._  We’re so close _, Changmin whispers to her,_ So close, Qian _.  
  
Close. Close to what? Freedom? A new life? Together? They hardly know one another. _ So close, Changmin murmurs again, and Qian decides that for now, it’s their bodies that will be close, and she grips the shirt on his back and presses nearer. Closer.  
  
—  
  
Yunho had been watching them since he had caught sight of Changmin peeking in on the birthday celebration, and had staked himself out in a car the next day, waiting for them to leave. He hadn’t even told Siwon, mostly because he would want to storm Jaejoong’s bar, but that’s messy and there’d be lots of paperwork to fill out and a lot of people to arrest that he doesn’t really want to confront.  
  
So he just waits, not texting his partner until a good half hour of train traveling has passed. The response is immediate, and Yunho can sense the excitement and enthusiasm, even if the words are just illuminated pixels on a screen. He can’t help his smile and decides, hey, since he has nothing better to do, maybe he’ll just flirt. And so he does, right up to the point when the messages start to get a little obscene and Siwon’s texts are more typos than anything else.  
  
“Dork,” Yunho sighs fondly, and has a stupid grin on his face until the train finally stops about fifteen minutes later.  
  
He watches Junsu part with Changmin and Qian at the platform, and only follows once Junsu’s flagged a taxi for them before heading into the station to buy a train ticket (presumably back into the city.) They’re so obvious Yunho has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He’s tempted to nab them right there, but the platform is crowded with people and Yunho considers himself patient enough to wait for his partner. They never catch fugitives if they rush.  
  
But Siwon’s at least thirty minutes away, and Yunho can’t wait for him without losing sight of Changmin and Qian. So he continues to follow, texting Siwon updates with their position (from taxi to restaurant to bathroom) as he stalks them into an alley and Yunho picks his way through the sidewalk, avoiding puddles (of what Yunho doesn’t know.)  
  
They walk briskly and Yunho eventually has to fall back, moving from tree to car to tree to a lump of a rock as the people thin and then the houses, and Yunho starts to worry that the heterosexuals know he’s following them.  
  
But they seem very wrapped up in one another, trying very hard to appear as strangers, but without the crowds from the train station, it’s hard to pull that off.  _Perhaps they’re attempting to appear as though they are related_ , Yunho muses, but either way it isn’t working. He’s been doing this for far too long.  
  
They walk for another mile before turning down a dirt road. A sign at the edge of the way waves a bit in the breeze and as Yunho passes it, he can hear it creak. The only word that’s readable is  _Farm_ , and Yunho takes a picture of it, sending it back to headquarters to be analyzed.  
  
There’s nothing between the end of the driveway and the house Yunho sees in the distance, so he waits until they’ve walked inside before trudging up the driveway himself. He doesn’t think they’re watching (because what sane heterosexual would stand by a window while they’re trying to hide?) and when he gets to the house, makes himself comfortable up against the side of it, and waits.  
  
When plucking up stray blades of grass passes into the realm of unbearable boredom, he walks around the house, peeking in the windows that don’t have shades, and trying to see through the ones that do, finally catching them through a slice of window not covered with a shade.  
  
They’re completely oblivious to him, the girl holding Changmin to her as he cries, rocking him back and forth until it’s not enough and she lays on the bed curling up against his body as it heaves. Yunho pictures, for a moment, what it would be like to be him, to love women, and to be hunted down for it. Could he stay with Siwon, were someone to persecute him for it?  
  
He imagines that he could. Would.  
  
He’s had the conversation once before with Yoochun while holding a gun to his forehead. He had been the first Yunho had let go, and after that, as some sort of strange loyalty to Jaejoong, had subsequently let everyone he had helped go as well. Jaejoong doesn’t know it, and he never will, but God knows, Yunho thinks, and maybe that will count for something.  
  
He watches until Changmin calms, swallowing hard as they start to talk and then start to kiss and Yunho tells himself (as they start to pull off clothes) that he’s not a pervert. He’s just observing the enemy. For himself, for Siwon, for their relationship, for the rest of the country. For the good of mankind.  
  
But the way Changmin traces invisible lines on her skin sends sparks down Yunho’s spine, because it’s not any different then the way Siwon does that to him, and the arch of her body as she rolls up into Changmin, is no different than then way Yunho responds to Siwon. Part of Yunho feels sick, and he finally looks away, crouching down onto the grass and swallowing the bile rising up in his throat.  _Fuck this_ , Yunho thinks, and he starts to recite anything he can think of to take his mind off what he’s about to do. What he has to do.  
  
He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he blinks, Siwon’s face looming above him and looking extremely worried.  
  
“Wake up,” his partner hisses, “Yunho!”  
  
His limbs are stiff as he stands, and he blinks against the sun that’s started to set, blazing a dark orange on the edge of the horizon. “You’re an idiot,” Siwon shakes his head, but there’s an undertone of affection that makes Yunho’s heart puff a little in happiness.  
  
Siwon hands him a gun.  
  
“No, wait. Just a few minutes.”  
  
“Bleary?” Siwon jests. “They’re still in there, I checked.”  
  
“I,” Yunho fumbles for the right word, “Yes. Just. A minute.”  
  
He waits until most of the fog has cleared from his mind before accepting the gun. Siwon radios their team of foot soldiers waiting at the front. “They most likely know we’re here by now, seeing as we haven’t exactly been quiet about our approach. You go through the front and we’ll catch them coming out the back.”  
  
They tuck themselves on either side of the porch. Yunho can see Siwon’s eyes just above the paint cracking on one step and his smile is reassuring.  
  
When the door bangs open, and Changmin and Qian shoot off the porch, Yunho makes sure he stumbles, making Siwon pause in concern for a moment and giving the fugitives a bit of head start. He doesn’t know what he’s doing yet, what he wants to do, and this will give him time to think.  
  
“Yunho,” Siwon entreats, “Come on. We’ve got this.”  
  
And they’re running, guns out, feet pounding, and Yunho knows he’ll never forget the smell of dirt and trampled grass for the rest of his life. Siwon is yelling, firing a warning shot into the air, but the heterosexuals are fast, making into the outlying forest before Siwon and Yunho. Siwon takes off to the right when they hear something break in that direction, and Yunho goes to the left, intending to circle around and catch them unawares.  
  
Yunho’s a little afraid he’s going to step on something unsightly and get hurt, but so far the forest floor is clear of strange things, and the bed of pine needles seems to be the result of that. He makes a note of it ( _pine needles would be good mulch for a garden, should I ever want one,_ ) and moves forward.  
  
It’s deathly silent, save for a hoot of an owl every few minutes, and it’s darker as the trees get thicker and the light of the moon is obstructed. Mother fuckers, Yunho says in his head. They just had to run into the creepy forest to hide and not the wide open field.  
  
Though granted, were he in their shoes, he would have gone straight for the woods too. Only in movies do people do stupid things like try to hide on flat ground. Or maybe it’s more that the directors don’t want to film around trees. Yeah. That’s probably it.  
  
He thinks about all the people he’s let escape. He remembers each face exactly, could recall their names if he wanted. He remembers in particular, Yoochun. Yoochun and Boa, whom he had known were close to Jaejoong and Junsu, and because of that had turned a blind eye. He’s not as stupid as Jaejoong thinks; he’s well aware of all the people they help and they had only ever gotten away because Yunho had let them.  
  
He wonders, briefly, if Jaejoong isn’t as dumb as Yunho thinks and actually knows this, which is why he bothers helping people escape at all.  _Probably_ , Yunho rolls his eyes, before continuing forward.  
  
He hasn’t heard any commotion yet, which he takes as a good sign; it means Siwon hasn’t found them yet, which means Yunho might just find them first.  
  
And five minutes later, he does, both of them catching their breath behind a tree. Yunho doesn’t bother to be quiet as he approaches, and he knows when they’ve heard him because their bodies tense almost immediately before whirling around to face him.  
  
Neither of them cower.  _They are in love_ , Yunho tells himself, and makes his decision.  
  
“Turn around,” Yunho whispers, “And run.”  
  
He sees Changmin swallow.  
  
“Before I change my mind,” Yunho says, “Before my partner comes and shoots both of you.” He lowers the gun, tossing it onto the bed of pine needles where it lands with a dull thump” Go love each other. Go have babies. Get. Away.”  
  
“But,” Changmin stutters.  
  
“Now,” Yunho hisses, wishing he could yell it.  
  
Changmin doesn’t move, maybe because he’s finally petrified, maybe because he doesn’t believe Yunho, and he’s surprised when it’s Qian who speaks. “Thank you.”  
  
“Fucking thank Jaejoong,” Yunho says.  
  
Changmin shakes his head. He takes Qian hand, delicately, almost reverently, and they both bow. “Thank you,” he says, with a slow emphasis on each word.  
  
They don’t run, but their steps are brisk, the crunch of the underbrush audible as they hurry away before disappearing altogether. Yunho wonders if he should shoot himself in the foot, just so he has a better excuse, but now that he thinks about it, it sounds painful and entirely unnecessary.  
  
So he just collapses, legs bent a bit awkwardly, adrenaline rushing out of his body leaving him exhausted.  _Weary_ , Yunho thinks,  _Weary is a good word_.  
  
Siwon finds him a moment later, and Yunho knows he doesn’t have to say anything for his partner to know that they’ve lost. Siwon’s arms come around Yunho’s waist and he’s pulled up against a shoulder, his hair petted, and he hears Siwon ask quietly, “What’s wrong?”  
  
 _Just a minor life crisis_ , Yunho thinks, but murmurs instead, “I’m just. Tired. I’m so tired, Siwon.”  
  
And this is why they’re together, he thinks, and Siwon squeezes the life out of him, because Siwon knows exactly what he means.  _Tired of chasing_. “Maybe they’ll let us retire,” Siwon says, “After this.”  
  
 _Because of this_ , Yunho knows, and sighs.  
  
“I’d like that.”  
  
  
  
—  
  
  
  
  
Epilogue: non omnis moriar  
 _not all of me shall die_  
  
  
“Hey.”  
  
In the low light of the fire, Qian’s hair glows, the rich browns flickering in and out of red and yellow, a whole new spectrum of color Changmin wants to spend forever touching.  
  
“Go out on a date with me,” Changmin whispers, when she turns her head to look at him.  
  
She raises her eyebrow at him, the wrinkles on her forehead long since smoothed out since they had crossed the border into China and found the small village of heterosexuals hiding safely in the forest.  
  
“That’s kind of backwards,” she frowns.  
  
Maybe it is. “You’re sort of awesome. And I just dragged you along. And. You’re beautiful. And I want to get to know you. Really know you, not just ‘on the run, hiding in closets, slipping my hand into your pants when I can’ know you.”  
  
“It wasn’t that bad.” Her grin is infectious, and she clearly only means the hands into pants bit.  
  
“I should hope not,” he sniffs, and they laugh like it’s a luxury, which really, it is. “I think I promised you kissing out on the street, too,” Changmin teases, nose bumping into her cheek. “Growing your hair out, wearing a bra. Whatever you want.”  
  
Neither of them had imagined dirt pathways and horse-drawn carts, candles to light their way instead of flashlights, but they would make it work.  
  
“Do you think we’re safe?” Qian asks him  
  
 _For the time being_ , Changmin thinks, and he nods. He’d like to think that  _safe_  is exactly what they are.

 


End file.
